


our spirits chose each other

by gohoubi



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Getting to Know Each Other, Lexa is a noviciate, Marcus Kane is Not Nice, Maybe a little too much talking about books, Medium Length, Minor Injuries, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Nuclear War, Rating May Change, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-10-26 09:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20739662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gohoubi/pseuds/gohoubi
Summary: Clarke Griffin has been recruited as the new confidant to Lexa, the Commander's second. However, secrets and intrigue surround them both, and Clarke finds that things are very different on the ground than in the Ark.





	1. Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So this is pretty much me just re-doing this fic cuz I didn't like how I set it up to start with. I'm trying to clean up my WIPs, LOL. I was losing inspiration...and tbh I wanted to maybe try it again and see if I could do this with a fresh outlook.

Leaving the Ark was not something Clarke wanted, or even expected, to do.

The stars outside twinkled, casting their dim light on the deck-plate beneath her feet. The crags of distant mountains broke the clouds on Earth far below. Raven’s lashes held tears that she refused to let fall.

“I should be going to that Grounder, not you.” She broke off to sob. “You’re needed here.”

Clarke found herself smiling despite the tenuous situation. “And you’re not?” She pulled Raven into a tight embrace. “I’ll be fine. They trust me.”

Enough to be the personal confidant to the Commander’s enigmatic second. Clarke looked over the small, sad group seeing her off - where was her mom?

“Where’s Mom?” Clarke whispered. They hadn’t been on the best of terms recently, but Abby would turn out to say goodbye…right?

“Clarke?” came a familiar voice from behind the group. When they separated, Abby came into view, bathed in a yellow glow from the hallway lights. When she got close enough, Clarke embraced her mother.

“I thought you’d already left. I was in surgery. I’m sorry I couldn’t come earlier,” she murmured, so only Clarke could hear.

“It’s fine, Mom. I’m glad you’re here.” Clarke let go, unable to see her mother and friends through tears starting to blur her vision. Abby took her daughter’s face in her hands, and Clarke saw sadness mingling with pride in her mother’s green eyes. “I’m proud of you,” Abby said, and Clarke felt it.

“The dropship is leaving in a few minutes. You should get on,” said Wells, in a voice that betrayed no emotion.

_If I look back, I will never be able to leave._

Clarke turned and walked down the access tunnel to the dropship. The red siren lights cast strange patterns upon her shoes. The lights felt like a red sea, bridging the gap between two distinct periods of her life. Clarke recalled a play she went to a year ago; before each seperate act, the stage would go dark. She felt like this now - but she didn’t know what her lines were, or where upon the stage she had to walk.

She crossed the threshold of the dropship door and strapped herself into a seat. She had written the play. It was time for her to run it.

  
Clarke listened to the dropship screaming its way to Earth and tried to keep herself from doing the same. There were no windows, so she had not the faintest idea where in the Earth’s atmosphere she was. People had reassured her many, many times that the planet was safe to live on now. Yet, Clarke imagined insidious radiation sneaking into her pores. Burning her skin from the inside out. She hadn’t seen real radiation burns, but some pictures still existed in old medical books aboard the Ark. The bubbly, toasted look of their bodies scared her more than any ghost story ever could.

She tried to distract herself some. Images of what the Commander’s second could be like flashed through her mind. Would she be tall? Short? Pretty? Ugly? Dark? Light? Clarke did not know any Grounders. _They are rough, the Grounders. Living through a nuclear winter will do that to people._ What did Grounders do for fun? Did they read? Play? She'd heard they fought for sport a lot. Clarke hated anything that resulted in injury.

_Kane will help me._ She held tight to that thought, knowing that he would help her adjust to life on the ground. Though his intentions were less than savoury, Clarke had to believe she could trust him. Otherwise, she would flounder.

She knew nothing about the woman (girl?) to whom she was going to be confidant. All she knew about was the quarry Clarke had to swindle her out of. _Maps, supply lists, transport chains, population figures. We need to find out more about these Grounders, but they are very secretive. Good thing a little blonde girl has no ulterior motives, right?_

Little blonde girl. Clarke would show him. She would show them all.

When the dropship hit the Earth, Clarke felt every bone in her body jar against each other. She unstrapped herself from the safety harness. Clarke tried not to think about all the major organs she could have ruptured on the way down. She worked out the kinks in her neck and surveyed the scene. The dropship door popped open with a loud hiss, and sunlight streamed through the opening.

Sunlight. Clarke had seen the sun on the Ark, of course, but it was a small dot of light, in a sea of dark. Down here, stories told of the light covering everything the eye could see - in daytime of course.

Green leaves shone like emeralds in the light, casting alluring shadows on the ground. Puddles from a recent rainstorm glittered. Broken glass from the dropship refracted rainbows that danced around the clearing.

Clarke's body felt heavy. She'd heard that the gravity simulators on the Ark had deviated from Earth in the years they’d been away. Being born on the Ark, she’d had no problem with this. But now it was a struggle to walk to the dropship cargo compartment and look for her bag. She found it and hefted it over her shoulder, looking around the clearing.

_There will be a Grounder on a horse waiting. You know what a horse looks like, don’t you?_

As if her thoughts conjured him, a lone man on a horse trudged out of the forest. The horse was pulling a cart behind it. The man had many tribal tattoos inked all over his dark skin, and his bald head glinted in the sunlight. Clarke felt a brief surge of panic that he wouldn’t know her language. She couldn’t recall whether English was widely-known here.  
The man on the horse unfolded a piece of paper he had in his hand. “Clarke?” he said, mispronouncing the ‘ke’ sound. She knew her name, though.

“That’s me,” Clarke responded, trying to sound more brave than she felt.

“Get in the cart,” the man snapped, turning the horse around. She looked at the cart with barely-disguised displeasure. Someone had crammed the cart full of goods in rough-hewn crates and woven bags. There was almost enough room for Clarke to sit right on the end, with her bag next to her. She climbed on. The drop ship receded in the distance, the last vestige of her Ark life gone. Clarke felt the cart jounce and jitter along each pothole in the badly-paved road. She wondered what waited for her at the path’s end.


	2. Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke arrives at the Commander's compound.

The ride was boring and uncomfortable, but the forest enthralled Clarke. She watched the trees and shrubs, and marvelled at each. Some of them had trunks covered in blue tendrils that waved at her as she passed by. Others had bright red protrusions in place of leaves. She’d never been a botanist - pictures of injury and disease on the Ark archives fascinated her more than plants. Yet she could barely stop herself climbing all over the cart to get a better look at the foliage around her.

After a while, the road smoothed out a little. The cart was coming up to a gate in a fence. A loud buzzer sounded and the gate creaked open. Two men with vicious-looking machetes manned the gate, but they seemed friendly enough.

Clarke grabbed her bag and made to get off, but the man riding the horse told her not to. “The Commander’s quarters are far away from here,” he said. He dug his heels into his horse, who trotted into the compound.

Her stomach growled in reply. Clarke remembered she had some bread in her bag, that Raven had packed in there. When she took it out, she found it was still warm. There was a crudely drawn symbol of a spaceship stamped into the bread.

Clarke tore into the bread and sniffed the steam rising out of it. A wave of homesickness came over her. It smelled like reconstituted grain. It smelled like the Ark. It smelled like home.

What were her friends doing up there? Clarke looked to the evening sky; could she see the Ark from here? She focused on a small glitter that she thought was the Ark, but it turned out to be a star, filtered through the hazy sky. Tears sprung to her eyes again, blurring her vision. Would she ever be able to go back home? Was she trapped here, with unfriendly Grounders on her way to an unknown fate?

The cart jounced hard again, and Clarke clutched hard to the side to avoid losing her seat. Did the path have to be so bad? So much for thinking the Commanders had quality roads. She gathered her bag close to her and tried not to think about what was to come. Before she could stop herself, she found the welcoming embrace of sleep coming. So tired. She laid her head against a crate and let slumber take her properly.

When Clarke jolted awake, it was night. There was a horrifying moment while she was still half-asleep and falling off the cart. She managed to get her hands out in front of her before she landed face-first in a puddle.

Clarke swore, staggering to her feet. She used the bottom of her jacket to wipe her face. “We’re here,” the man on the horse said, without even a backwards glance at her.

Clarke got a good look at the place she had arrived at. A nuclear war and a near century of abandonment had not cleansed it of its grandeur. It was low to the ground, but still stately. Lights inside the huge frosted windows gave the whole place a homey feel. The bricks still held their marble colour. The grass was green and verdant and the paths smooth and straight. She’d thought the Grounders were savages - but this building looked modern, in a simple kind of way. One of the patrolmen walking around the place came up to them with a torch - he angled the flame so he could see them both.

The patrolman started up a rapid fire patter in a language Clarke could not understand. Trigedasleng? Clarke felt acutely embarrassed. They could be trashing her and she wouldn’t know. Why did Kane not teach her at least some words?

At least the sign above the grand entrance to this new building had some English words on it. In the weak light from the torches below, Clarke tried to decipher the few letters still readable:

**L RA Y F ON R SS**

The Library of Congress! Clarke had read about this on the Ark! The biggest library on Earth. She felt mildly cheered by the prospect of living here.

The patrolman and her prickly escort had finished their conversation. “This way. With me,” he said, walking this time, not giving her a backwards glance. Clarke hurried to follow him, trying to stay abreast with him. “Where are we going?” she asked him, though she didn’t expect an answer.

“To the Commander’s quarters.”

Elation at having made progress with this man made Clarke brave. “Will I meet his second today?” she asked, trying not to sound too desperate. Or needy.

“No. They all sleep right now. Tomorrow morning.”

At the end of the path, a small door revealed itself, which had a lantern above. **S RV C OOR** said the letters on it. The man, horseless, stopped in front of it. “You go in here,” he said with no hint of emotion in his voice.

“Wait!” Clarke grabbed his jacket tail. “What’s your name?”

The man gave her a strange look; unreadable in the darkness. “Lincoln,” came the reply, then he turned around and rode off.

She turned back to the door. What waited for her behind its grey surface? She thought again of the dropship access hatch. Another act, another scene. Only problem was, she still didn’t know her lines.


	3. Enigmatic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke has a nighttime visitation from her enigmatic new charge.

Clarke lay in her bunk next to the second’s room and tried not to worry about what would come in the morning.

When Lincoln had left her at the service door, Clarke had had no idea what to do. Did she knock? Were they expecting her? Who would answer? A servant? A patrolman? These anxious thoughts ran around in her head like one of those pre-nuclear trains she’d seen in pictures. Wells liked trains, she remembered. Anything vehicular. 

_I cannot think about them now._

Clarke wiped her eyes with the bottom of her shirt and knocked on the door. The sound echoed dully through what she thought might be a long hallway. Before she could raise a hand to knock again, the door swung inwards on silent hinges.

Another patrolman stood behind it, menacing as all the others Clarke had seen before him.

“Who are you?” he said, in the heavily-accented English of the Grounders.

“I’m Clarke Griffin,” she said, hurriedly digging in her bag for her papers. She passed them to the patrolman, who gave them a cursory glance. “The new - ”

“This way,” the patrolman cut her off sharply, turning on his heel and walking further into the hallway.

Clarke stood for a few seconds, stupefied by the interruption, then followed him into the hallway. Buzzing electric lights were set at regular intervals throughout the hallway, creating pools of yellow that rippled with each step in and out of them. She heard clanging from somewhere in the building, like steel on steel. Were people fighting here, even at this late hour? Clarke shuddered and tried not to think about what went on behind these thick, marble walls.

After five minutes of walking, Clarke and her silent escort emerged into a grand foyer. Half the floor above them had collapsed, and there was no ceiling to obscure the night sky. Clarke noted - with trepidation - that the stairs looked like a deadly obstacle course. The patrolman took these stairs with not even a flinch, moving from step to ruined step as if by instinct. Clarke followed close behind him, wondering with every creaky step if it would be her last.

The patrolman had led her down two more hallways after that, which were adorned with tattered hangings and faded paintings, until they reached a room. Clarke thought it didn’t even deserve that denomination - ‘antechamber’ would have been better.

“You sleep here,” he said, not even giving her a glance. He thrust her papers back in her direction. “That’s the second’s room.” He pointed to a sliding door next to the bed. “Next morning, talk to Lexa.”

Lexa? Clarke mulled over this name once he had left. Was that the Commander? The Commander’s second?

She lay on the tiny bunk that was set into the antechamber’s wall. There was virtually no adornment other than a table. Clarke had changed into her sleep clothes and tried - unsuccessfully - to fall asleep. The clanging had stopped, and the only noise now was some strange insect’s chirping. Thoughts kept racing through her mind, including visions of her friends on the Ark. Were they doing alright up there? Were they even thinking of her? Above all:

_When will Kane arrive?_

Kane was going to help her. Another Arker on the ground. A kindred spirit. Someone she could talk to.

I’m not going to be there immediately, Clarke. I have some things to take care of up here. You can handle the situation on Earth, right? Get close to the second. Become…enmeshed, I suppose, in the Grounder society. Set the scene for me to get that intel.

How was she supposed to get close to the second? Would they have anything in common with her? Clarke cursed now her science-rich upbringing. What could a bookish girl talk about to someone who had been fighting all their life? 

_“Why do you need me?” asked Clarke, uncertain._

_“Small? Blonde? Pretty? Grounders may be paranoid, but who’ll be suspicious of you, Clarke?”_

_“I’m not anyone special.”_

_“Exactly. Go in there, find the intel, and lead me to it. Not that hard, right?” Kane pulled out a list of something from the growing pile on the table. He scanned it, but didn’t say what he was looking for. _

_“But how will being the Commander’s second’s confidant get me there?” Clarke tried to get a look over Kane’s shoulder at the list, but he angled it away from her._

_“The seconds get introduced to leading while they’re in that position. The second will know where - ”_

Clarke was broken from her reverie by the scraping of the sliding door, the one that led to the second’s room. It slammed into its recess with a hollow thump, and Clarke finally got a good look at the second.

The only light inside the room came from chinks in the thick marble walls. It glinted off dust motes swirling over the ground. The floor creaked, as the second crept over it. A girl, from the hazy halo of hair floating around her head, and the blurry curves of her body.

“Costia?” the second asked.

Clarke took a second to find her voice. “I’m not Costia,” she said timidly.

The second stopped dead and turned robotically to face Clarke. “You aren’t?”

“No. I don’t know where Costia is. Was she your friend?”

The second crept towards the bed and sat down on the edge. A match was struck and a candle lit. A pool of light grew, bobbing and ebbing. Clarke saw a long, aquiline face, with deep dark eyes and an open expression. This was the second, then? Clarke felt a stirring deep inside her, and forced down the impulse to move further away.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Lexa,” the second breathed, her eyes roving over Clarke’s face, openly curious.

_Pretty name._ She did not say this, though. “I’m Clarke,” she said. “I’m supposed to be your confidant.”

“Are you?” Lexa asked in a rather vague tone. “How long have you been here?”

“I just arrived tonight.” Clarke scratched her ankle, not wanting to make eye contact with her enigmatic new friend. “Who is Costia?”

The openness vanished instantly; Lexa’s eyes dulled and her face fell a little. “Nobody. Don’t worry about it.”

Of course, this made Clarke’s mind set off on a new train of thinking. _Who is she? A friend? A previous confidant? A sister? A lover?_

“Why are you in my room? Is everything alright?”

Lexa flushed a little. In the “Nothing. Just a bad dream.”

Clarke felt bravery and foolishness rush up in equal measure. “You can stay with me, if you like.”

Lexa looked surprised, as if nobody had made that offer before. “Are you sure?” Her face was so open and young looking. In the candlelight, dried tear tracks were visible on Lexa’s cheeks. Clarke ached a little inside to see it.

“Yeah.” She pulled up the thin bedspread and allowed Lexa to slide in next to her. The candle was extinguished, plunging them both into darkness. They stayed a good distance apart, but she could feel warmth radiating off her new bedmate.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked cautiously.

There was an intake of breath from Lexa. “There’s not much to talk about. Death and destruction. That’s all I see.”

What was Clarke supposed to say to that? “I’m sorry,” she hazarded, by way of comfort.

“I’m used to it,” Lexa replied from the darkness. The words were convincing, but her shaky voice gave it away. Clarke reached out a tentative hand and laid it upon the shivering girl’s shoulder.

And to her surprise, Lexa did not shy away.


	4. Afterwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke meets Lexa for the first time, and reunites with her unsavoury superior.

When the sky brightened again, Lexa had gone. A faint impression in the mattress was the only reminder of her strange, nighttime visitation. 

Clarke rubbed her eyes, still unused to natural light. On the Ark, she was used to the atmospheric lights dimming their way up from darkness. The transition between day and night took less than thirty seconds. Here, though, the sun took its sweet time coming up from behind the horizon. The colours were beautiful however. On the Ark, the lights never changed from plain white (“Any other colour is a waste of valuable energy,” said the engineers when asked) but here the sunrise was shot through with streaks of gold, purple, pink and red. She wished now that she had paint or even something to draw with. Unfortunately, she’d left her art things on the Ark. Maybe the library had some, if she could get Lexa to show her where they were.

Clarke got out of bed and saw, with surprise, that someone had left a pile of clothes next to the door overnight. Her pleasant surprise changed to distaste when she realised how beaten-up the clothes were. At least she could clean up before putting them on…or not. A check around the room revealed no shower or even anywhere with running water. Did they have running water on the ground? Was it even safe to drink?

Whatever, she could skip a day. Even so, Clarke felt the crust gathering on her arms and sighed.

The door to Lexa’s room beckoned. The patrolman had said to talk to her in the morning, but Clarke could not bring herself to knock on the door.

What would she make of that incident last night? Now, Clarke wasn’t even totally sure it had actually happened. Would it be awkward? Would Lexa want to talk about it? Or would she not mention it at all?

She had to get it over with. Each knock on the sliding door seemed to reverberate through the whole room.

Footsteps, moving towards the door. A shunnnnk sound as it slid back into its recess. Lexa stood there, far more strong and put together than last night’s iteration. However, one detail stood out: thick black paint, smeared across her eyes, streaked downwards like thick black tears. Clarke took that in and tried not to stare too much.

“Good morning,” said Lexa, and there was no trace of weakness in her voice.

“Hey,” Clarke replied, unsure of how to proceed. “Um, about last night - ”

“It was nothing. Just a lapse on my part.” It was like a heavy portcullis coming down - Lexa retreated behind it, and any vulnerability vanished. Clarke blushed, feeling sorry for having mentioned it. She supposed she should hurry the conversation along as quickly as possible. “So, the patrolman earlier, he said I should talk to you. This morning.”

“Yes. Where are your papers?”

Clarke snatched them off the table where she had left them. They were dusty and slightly damp from their trip to Earth. On top was a reference letter, written in Trigedasleng. It was supposed to be written by the Chancellor of the Ark, but it wasn’t. Kane was an expert in fraudulent letters, having made it shortly before she left.

Lexa waved Clarke inside her chambers. It was clearly an old conference room, back when the building was a library. It didn’t have many windows, but Clarke could see an empty projector screen holder, and several whiteboards took up one wall. It was cluttered, disorganised and junk-filled in the way that only a post-apocalyptic room could be, but she immediately liked it. She sat on a rickety chair next to a window, while Lexa looked over the letter.

As Lexa’s eyes moved back and forth, her eyebrows would occasionally twitch a little, or she would frown slightly. When she finished reading, she flipped the paper so Clarke could see what was written on it.

“Can you read this?”

Clarke knew not a word of Trigedasleng. It was written in English letters, but the language had been so corrupted by time and instability it bore practically no resemblance to the tongue it had come from. She could see some parts in an almost pidgin-like form of English, but the rest was just nonsense.

“No. I can’t.”

“Really?” Lexa responded coolly. She spoke a short phrase in the language, then reverted to English. “Did you understand that?”

Clarke flushed deeply again. “No.”

Lexa seemed to be calculating in her head what to say next. “It shouldn’t be a problem. Most people here speak English.” She stuffed the letter away in her desk drawer. “It was just a reference from someone on the Ark. I didn’t really need it anyway.”

Lexa took a step towards Clarke. Her heart jittered a little.

“I only have one rule here. Don’t lie to me. I don’t like it when people do that.” She moved closer, until Clarke could see the rough brushstrokes the black paint had been applied with. “You can steal from me. Or even try to hurt me. I don’t care, I can defend myself. But don’t ever lie to me.”

“Okay,” Clarke said. “I promise.”

Lexa seemed to relax a little at that. “I have to be somewhere. Don’t come with me.”

“When will you be back?”

“See those white lines?” She pointed out the window at several large white strips on the square out front. “When the shadows reach that one fifth from the gate, I’ll be back.”

Clarke was a little impressed by the ingenious new way of timekeeping. “What do I do until then?”

“I don’t know. There’s many rooms with books in them. Go read, I suppose? Anyway, I’m late.”

Lexa was gone and out the door before Clarke could say anything else. She was left standing in the middle of the room, now larger without someone else in it.

She remembered all the lectures on the Library of Congress back when she lived on the Ark. The educators had said it was a ‘library of last resort’ - so it was the best stocked library by the time of the nuclear war. Full of books, films, soundtracks and every other information carrying device someone could think of. There were info-servers on the Ark of course - but there was nothing there Clarke hadn’t already seen. Maybe this place had books she could look at.

Abruptly, her mind was transported back to Wells. He had loved reading too.

_Why am I thinking about him like he’s dead? Unless something went wrong up there, he’s still alive. I may still see him again._

Books, yes. That was exactly what she needed, to take her mind of problems then and now.

Only problem was that she had no idea where to go. Clarke decided to take a random hallway and stick with it, her feet kicking up little clouds of dust in the carpet. Many doors studded the walls, with signs too worn to read anymore. Clarke tried some of them, but they either didn’t open, or were empty. Other patrolmen passed her, but none of them said anything. She wondered if the more Grounder-like clothes had something to do with it.

After a while, she emerged onto a foyer, which had many stacks of bookshelves. Some were full, but others were not. Clarke ran her hands along their spines and inhaled their unfamiliar scent. The few physical books available on the Ark were always sealed away. On the rare occasion someone took them out, they stunk of preservative spray. So the ‘real’ smell of books Clarke had heard about was a mystery. 

She started looking at some of the tomes more closely. They seemed to be randomly organised, so that one book about organic chemistry was next to a train-spotter’s guide. When Clarke pulled the chemistry book out and opened it, the pages nearly crumbled in her hands.

“Be careful with those,” came a manicured voice from behind her. A hand gripped hers and spun her around.

A familiar face came into view. “Has being on the ground changed you so quickly? The Clarke I know would never treat books like that.”

Kane, finally on the ground and here to help her. She didn’t know what she expected, but he looked exactly the same as when Clarke’d last seen him. Dark, confident eyes, that could intoxicate any woman between the ages of sixteen and sixty. Coifs of brown hair that even a trip to Earth couldn’t shake. A chiseled face, not unlike Lexa’s.

Clarke turned away slightly, abashed, stuffing the book back on the shelf. “These books are falling apart.”

“Of course, I was just being facetious.” Kane moved his hand onto her shoulder, and Clarke resisted the temptation to pull away.

“I thought you had some things to take care of back home.”

“I was able to wrap things up quicker than expected.”

Clarke wondered what that might mean, but Kane kept talking. “I’m meeting with the Commander tomorrow. And his second, too.” He led her further down the stacks, until they were surrounded by books and quiet.

“Are you sure they’ll buy that whole ambassador thing?”

Annoyance flickered across Kane’s face, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. “I’ve already arranged everything. They are rather open to the inclusion of ‘Sky People’ in their government.”

“I suppose you have everything under control here now.” Kane’s hand dropped from her arm, and Clarke stepped back a little.

“I still need your help. You’re the one who’s going to get close to the second. Anyway, I have to go. I have a meeting.”

She bristled. “I don’t really think she wants anything to do with me.”

Kane was already walking away. “She will! Once you turn on that familiar Griffin charm.” He rounded a stack and vanished out of sight.


	5. Probe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa and Clarke deepen their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOHOO POSTING A CHAPTER ON A PHONE INSTEAD OF A COMPUTER!!!!

Clarke occupied herself with more books until the shadows reached the fifth line, but she couldn’t focus on them. What if she really couldn’t do her job here? She would either return to the Ark a failure, or stay on Earth with Grounders who’d be out for her blood.

_Including Lexa._

Images of that sweet, aquiline face from last night came up in her vision again, but blurry, as if viewed from underwater. Would she ever see that again? Would Lexa stay the same stony, unwavering self she had been this morning?

Clarke decided she had to find out. _If I can’t even face Lexa, why am I here?_ Even so, nervousness coiled in her stomach like a snake as she retraced her steps through the library. Thankfully, she didn’t meet Kane along the way. 

“I’m back.”

Lexa turned around, from where she was removing her face paint. “Did you manage to occupy your time well?”

Clarke sat down on the same chair from earlier. “I just looked at some books.” The conversation seemed plagued with awkwardness from earlier. She shifted on her seat, trying not to let on to Lexa how uncomfortable she was.

“Clarke.” Lexa turned around. “Do you know who Marcus Kane is? I met him today at a meeting. He says he knows you.”

What was Kane playing at? _We should stay away from each other. If someone asks, you tell them that I’m just a councilman, that you barely know me. Less suspicion that way._ Clarke wondered how long the charade was going to keep up. Considering they were the only Arkers on the ground, it seemed unlikely.

She decided to go for the safest option. “He was a councilman on the Ark. I barely know him. I didn’t even know he was coming to Earth.”

Lexa had finished wiping off her war-paint and was now untying her hair. “He’s the new ambassador for the Sky People. The Commander introduced me to him.”

_If uncertain, feign ignorance._ Clarke twisted a lock of hair around her finger. “Why?”

“I’m the second. I might succeed the Commander someday,” said Lexa, in the tone of someone explaining the sun rising in the east. “I should be involved in the governance of my people.”

Clarke didn’t have anything to say to that. “What were you doing earlier?”

“Just training and going to meetings.” She said nothing more.

“Lexa, I’ve been thinking…”

“Yes?” Done with her hair, she turned around to fix her pale gaze on Clarke.

“It’s been awkward ever since I met you that night. It shouldn’t be. If we’re to spend time together…maybe we should get to know each other.”

Lexa sat down on a threadbare couch, which creaked at her weight. “I don’t have many friends,” she said frankly. “I don’t know what people do to ‘get to know each other’.”

Clarke tried not to follow the line of her leg as it rested on the cushions. “You could ask me what I did on the Ark. Before I came here.”

Lexa cocked her head questioningly, her green eyes glittering. “So what did you do?”

“I did a medical internship. My mother is a surgeon.” Clarke’s heart ached a little at the thought of her mother, hundreds of kilometres away. But she could feel a smile forming at Lexa finally opening up to her. “Now I’m here.”

“You’re a healer?”

“Yeah. I don’t know that much, though.” She paused. “What about you?”

“I’m a noviciate. I train every day and attend meetings, and hopefully one day the spirit of the Commander will choose me.”

“Choose you?”

“There are other seconds. One day the spirit of the Commander will choose one of us to be the next _Heda_.” Lexa seemed to adopt a different demeanour when she described that. Clarke had heard some people on the ground had taken on new religions after the nuclear apocalypse. Maybe that was it.

“So the spirit of the Commander will choose someone…who will then be the next one?”

“Yes. I hope it’s me.”

Both women sat in silence for a few minutes, until a thought occurred to Clarke. Maybe she could start her job here and now. “Well, I’m your confidant. Is there anything you need help with? Anything you want to talk about?”

_Try and get that intel for me. If she opens up to you, the job is half done._

Lexa’s eyes narrowed. Clarke could practically hear the cogs turning in her head. She quailed - had she overstepped? Had she lost her target?

“It would take too long to explain to you. You haven’t lived here all your life.” She brushed off her skirts and stood up. “Maybe in a few weeks,” Lexa said, almost teasingly.

“Alright then.”

Clarke breathed a sigh of relief. Her sloppy attempt at probing for info had not aroused any suspicion. Kane would be irritated when he heard about it, though. In any case, she had no desire to let the other girl dwell on what she had said. “What do you do in the evenings?”

“I have the evening meal with the other noviciates.” Lexa’s expression shut down again. Clarke had taken to privately calling it the portcullis look. “You’re not allowed to come.”

“Can I at least walk you there?” Clarke asked, forgetting herself.

“If you want.”

Hopefulness thrummed inside her like the guitar strings that one of Clarke’s classmates owned. Maybe their relationship had some hope yet.


	6. Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke watches Lexa fight, and Kane toes the line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild blood warning ⚠️

Another sunset, another sunrise. Another day completed on the ground. Another one yet to come. Clarke rolled over to face the chinks in the wall. Through them, she could see some green, some brown and a sliver of morning sky.

“Good morning,” came a humming voice now recognisable to her, like honey and stone rolled into one.

Lexa knelt by the bed, already dressed and with war paint on. “Where are you going?” asked Clarke, trying to keep eye contact. She still wasn’t used to the daubs of black streaking across Lexa’s face.

“I have training. I want you to watch.”

Clarke rolled out of bed. “Watch?”

Lexa turned and walked towards the door. “It’s in the central courtyard. It starts in ten minutes.”

“Wait. Are you sure they’ll allow me?”

“Of course.”

Clarke didn’t know what she expected from the training grounds at the compound. Instead of seeing tiered seating, or locker rooms, or anything like a proper sports field, the only frill was a round circle of tamped beige dirt. There were no buildings nearby, so the sun illuminated the ring, making the ground shimmer. She caught sight of Lexa on the grass honing a machete with a rock. The machete was marred by streaks of rust - thoughts of tetanus flitted through Clarke’s mind as she sidled up to her charge. “Where do I sit?”

Lexa gestured to the space around the dirt circle. “Anywhere. Just not in the circle.” She put the rock down and walked onto the field, facing off with a boy around her age.

Clarke sat down, relishing the smell and feel of the grass. The only plants on the Ark were in the agricultural pans - and grass never grew there. _It’s a pest, and it does not produce enough oxygen to justify letting it grow._ She yanked some of it out of the ground and smelled it properly. Clarke let the scent waft into her nose, awakening some long-dead instinctual memory from when humans lived on Earth.

“You know, you can make a whistle out of grass,” came Kane’s voice from behind her.

Confusion at his statement overrode Clarke’s surprise at meeting him there. “What do you mean?”

Kane bent down and grabbed a handful of grass, held it up to his mouth and blew through it. It made a strange, whistling sound.

“A Grounder boy showed me that,” he said, brushing the grass from his hands.

“Why are you here, Kane?” Clarke asked, staring into his eyes.

“I’m meeting the Commander and his second today,” he said innocently. “The Commander graciously invited all the ambassadors to watch his noviciates fight. See, look at them all over there.”

A small tent was being erected next to the ring, and several people in various stages of rough dress were taking seats under it. One burly, better dressed man took a seat in the front middle. The Commander, Clarke assumed. Lexa and the boy stood in the centre of the ring, waiting for the cue to fight.

“I must get back. The Commander has taken quite a liking to me.” Kane left without another word, taking a seat next to the big man, absorbed in conversation with him.

Did Kane have his own motives? Clarke had been instructed to get close to Lexa, but she had no idea of what her mentor’s plans were. She wanted to entertain that thought, but a gong rang out from the tent and her attention was drawn back to the ring.

The boy Lexa sparred with did not hesitate; he jabbed his spear right for her stomach without a second thought. Lexa dodged it, bringing her machete up to knock the spear out of his hands. Both weapons were locked together for a moment, before they sprung apart; Lexa stumbling and the boy falling to the ground.

Clarke heard a titter from the tent. Perhaps in response, the boy growled and scrambled to his feet, driving his spear upwards. Lexa sidestepped it easily, and Clarke could have sworn she saw a smirk on her face.

Lexa and the boy kept sparring, him always attacking, her always defending. He thrusted the spear once, twice, thrice, countless times until Clarke lost track, Lexa sidestepping, dodging, parrying with the machete.

After about ten minutes, the boy was quickly tiring, but Lexa still seemed unusually energetic, hopping from foot to foot on the far side of the ring.

“Let’s finish this,” the boy said raggedly, before grabbing his spear in the middle and breaking it in half. He now held two smaller spears in each hand, prompting more mutters from the ambassadors. Clarke wondered if such an action was even allowed. His opponent seemed unfazed, however - her expression was remarkably sedate.

The boy charged, holding both spears like swords, ready to strike. He slashed at Lexa, who only just evaded his move. Even so, a deep cut opened up on the bridge of her nose, and a splatter of blood made a metre long trail in the dirt.

The hubbub among the congregation in the tent reached a fever pitch, but the Commander and Kane stayed silent, watching. Now it was Lexa’s turn on the ground. She wiped her nose, smearing blood across her face. Clarke felt a little stir inside her at that sight.

The boy flipped his spears and drove them down, but Lexa batted them away as if they were nothing more than cardboard rolls. Now weaponless, the boy backed away slowly, hands up, defenceless. Lexa climbed to her feet, shooting a mildly confused look at the Commander. He nodded.

She charged, the machete held high above her head. The boy barely had time to turn and run before he was on the ground underneath Lexa, wriggling in vain. The gong rang out again, signifying a clear end to the match.

A round of perfunctory applause came from the tent, none louder than Kane’s. “Bravo, Lexa!” He kept clapping, a while after everyone else had stopped. “Your Commander’s words do not do your fighting skills justice.”

Clarke’s stomach roiled at Kane’s blatant fawning attempt, but if Lexa was perturbed she didn’t show it; she even gave a little mock bow in his direction. The ambassadors started dispersing, with the Commander talking to both his charges in a low, secretive voice. Kane stood off to the side, clearly waiting for an opening to talk to them.

Clarke rose from the grass but did not take a step. _If someone asks, you tell them that I’m just a councilman, that you barely know me._ Yet Kane was out there talking with Clarke and Lexa in quick succession with no thought for how it looked. _Less suspicion that way._

The Commander, clearly finished with his lecture, walked off flanked by two guards. Lexa waved Clarke over. “You did very well,” Clarke said when she was within range.

“Thank you. Though Larkin is one of the less talented noviciates.”

Lexa’s nose was still pouring blood, making a long drip down her face. “I can fix that up for you,” Clarke said, pointing to it. “I might not be a doctor, but I have some experience.”

Lexa’s eyebrows raised a little. “Let’s go back to the compound then. I will warn you, though - ” The edge of her mouth quirked up in a small smile. “ - we don’t have fancy medicines like Skaikru people do.”

_ Skaikru? Is that their name for us?_ bounced around in Clarke’s head along with _Was that a joke just there?_

“Wait,” Kane rushed up to both of them, like an apparition. “I need to steal Clarke for a minute. I have some news from home that she’d want to hear.” At Lexa’s mildly distrustful expression, he said, “Only a minute. I promise.”

Lexa nodded. “I’ll be waiting,” she said, before turning and walking away.

Clarke waited until she disappeared from view before she lay into Kane. “What was that? That blatant suck-up attempt?”

Kane smiled, looking down his nose at her. “It seemed to me that Lexa thought it was a compliment. The Commander was pleased.”

Clarke resisted the urge to stomp the ground like a child. “Still. I thought we were supposed to be covert. The second you start showing Lexa favouritism the Commander will think something’s up. Do you want to draw attention to us?”

“They’re Grounders,” Kane said in that annoyingly confident tone she’d now grown to hate.

“They’re paranoid,” Clarke retorted. “The further you interject in their affairs the harder it will be to get out again.”

“Where are the affairs? Hm?” Kane asked. “Have you made any headway with the intel I asked for?” At Clarke’s silence, he sighed. “Also, it’s ‘we’. Clarke Griffin promised me she’d be a part of this. Are you really thinking of reneging on your promise?”

She was reconsidering, but it would be unwise to let on. “No, of course not.”

“If things go south you go down with me. I’ll promise you that, in return. Remember. I’m an ambassador. You have no power here.”

“Lexa would protect me,” Clarke said, but the statement lacked conviction, and Kane knew it. “No, she wouldn't. Betrayal. Treason. You’ll be slain and strung up on a tree somewhere.” Kane winked and walked away backwards. “But if you stay with me, that won’t happen.”

Movement at a window caught Clarke’s eye, and she managed a glimpse of brown hair and black war paint before it disappeared.

“Go back to Lexa,” called Kane, about to turn a corner. “You have some work to do.”


	7. Heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa and Clarke find out a little more about each other.

“I don’t know how your wounds don’t get infected down here,” said Clarke, trying to find the correct size dressing for Lexa’s nose wound. The patient herself had been irritable the whole time, clearly unused to the attention.

“I didn’t know that Skaikru were so fussy over this. It’s already stopped bleeding.”

“It could get infected. People die from infections.” Clarke wiped away the dried blood from Lexa’s nose, which flaked away like a snowdrift and floated lazily to the floor.

“It’s an honest death.”

Clarke chose the smallest, least-wasteful bandage she had and ripped the backing off of it. After sticking it down, Lexa did look rather ridiculous, with the snowy-white bandage clashing with the tawny hues of her skin. Clarke thought it wise not to mention it, however.

Lexa honed in on it anyway. “It’s laughable. What will the others say? I’ll look like I’m trying to be a Skaikru.” She studied her reflection in a mirror so scratched and fogged with dirt Clarke wondered how she could see anything. She packed her things away. “What’s more important to you? Being a Grounder? Or living?”

“Both,” Lexa said, evidently not wanting to let it go. “I’m a noviciate. My loyalty should be to my people.”

“Loyalty to your people means staying alive for them,” Clarke said, hoping that she hit the mark with that statement. “Anyway, the bandage will stay on for only a few days. Then you’ll go back to looking like a normal Grounder again.”

“It better,” Lexa said, giving Clarke a steely look. “Or else I’ll rip it off.”

“So do you read the books in this building? Or are they just decoration?”

A small smile quirked the corner of Lexa’s mouth. “We’re not all savages. Despite what they might have told you in the sky - ”

“The Ark.”

“The Ark, then. We know how to read. I know how to read in both English and Trig.”

Clarke wondered how many Trig authors there were on the ground. Probably not many. How would anyone have the time between training and fighting off rival clans? She felt hope bloom in her heart like a flower. Maybe she and Lexa would have a little something in common after all. The two girls turned a corner, onto a different foyer full of bookshelves. Clarke hoped Kane wouldn’t be lurking among the stacks like he had been the day before. After yesterday’s skin-crawling encounter she was wary of seeing him around again, especially with Lexa.

“Do you have a favourite book, then?” Clarke remembered wistfully now her e-reader, left in her locker in the Ark, filled with titles torrented from the info-servers.

_“You have experience with illegal downloads, right?” Kane flipped her e-reader in his hand, throwing it up and catching it before the device hit the ground._

_“Yes. But anyone can do it. Anyway, they’re Grounders. They wouldn’t have that kind of - ”_

“Clarke!” All at once her recollection cleared, to reveal Lexa’s face close to hers. _She has blue flecks in her eyes._

“What?”

“I asked you if you liked it. What sort of books do Sky People read?”

Clarke recovered herself. “Anything. Whatever was left on the info-servers after the nuclear war. Books on mechanics, physics, stuff like that.” Scraping a circle in the dusty carpet, she leaned against a bookshelf. “But sometimes there would be ordinary books on the servers.”

She did not say which ones they were.

_“The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Have you read that one, Clarke?” Kane sat spread-legged on the cafeteria bench, making a pattern in his algae soup with his spoon._

_“No, I haven’t.” Clarke wondered where this conversation was going. He did not often express interest in books read for pleasure._

_“Well, in the book, there’s this novel little creature called a Babel fish,” Kane said, his eyes alight. “It translates every language, ever created, into English. You just let it live in your brain and it does the translating for you.”_

_“What about it? Does it exist on Earth?”_

_Kane chuckled. “No, it’s a fantasy. I’m just saying, it would be nice if we had one. Then you would be able to understand everything the Grounders said.”_

“Well, my favourite book is this one,” Lexa said bashfully, reaching to the top of the bookcase. When she pulled it down, the pages flapped like a dead beige butterfly. The cover was so faded and stained the title was unreadable, but the first page revealed it: _The Lord of the Rings._

“That’s your favourite?” Clarke asked. She’d truthfully never read it, but even a cursory glance at the contents showed it was a fantasy tome. Yet unexpectedly, Lexa was saying she liked this one the best.

“Yes. I like Legolas.”

“Why is this here? I didn’t know the Library of Congress stocked books like these.”

Lexa took the book back from Clarke and flipped to the very last page. “I didn’t find it in the shelves. Look here. It says ‘This book belongs to Lana Hedge’. It was in a bag in an office, off the hallway to the noviciate meeting room.”

“Maybe she worked in the library.” Clarke said, folding her arms. “The bag was probably abandoned during the war.” She felt a momentary pang of sadness for Lana Hedge, obviously long dead. The only remnant of her life was a book, and a bag in an office.

“Did you find any books here you like?”

“No, I didn’t yet. I mostly just looked around the building.” Clarke didn’t want to admit she to her secret meeting with Kane. He might be flagrantly disregarding all his rules for secrecy, but she was not going to do the same. If anything this job had to be done right, with or without him.

“Well, there’s something I want to show you.” Lexa took Clarke’s hand and dragged her through the stacks. As they walked, she had time to explore every aspect of her hand - the calluses like little scratchy atolls, the soft folds and the smooth nails. Lexa’s hand squeezed a little tighter as they rounded a corner, and Clarke felt a jolt of electricity run up her arm. _It is nothing, she tried to tell herself. Just a response by my brain to the added pressure. Nothing more._ Yet as she walked, she couldn’t hold onto that thought for more than a few seconds, because Lexa’s hand would shift, and her arm would tingle all over again.

“Here we are,” said Lexa, dropping Clarke’s hand.

For some reason, Clarke had been expecting more books, or a foyer of some kind. But what she saw - it was improbable that it even existed on Earth.

The whole wall was gone, so the room was open to the air. From there, a huge pool of water gleamed irresistibly blue, sun sparkling off it like a sapphire. Nuclear war had clearly not affected it - it was so clear Clarke could see the stones at the bottom. Not only that, a small clutch of hills framed the pool, creating a vista directly out of a pre-war postcard.

“What do you think?” Lexa asked, studying Clarke’s face intently.

“It’s amazing. But it’s probably irradiated, right?”

“Yes, it is. The Commander tested the water with an old radiation kit. But we can still swim in it.” Lexa withdrew a yellow book from her jacket. “Anyway, I wanted to give you this.”

Clarke took it and read the front cover. Half the title was gone, but Book of Clinical Medicine was still readable.

“It’s something about medicine, I didn’t understand any of that.” Lexa scratched the back of her neck and didn’t meet Clarke’s eyes. “I thought you might like to read it, though.”

“I’ve never seen this before. Did you find it in the stacks?” Lexa nodded. “Thank you.”

“It’s very old. I checked the year it was published.” Clarke checked for herself - fifth edition, 2001.

“It’s a little less than one hundred and fifty years out of date. I’m sure it’s still usable.”

Lexa smiled, almost genuinely. “Come on. I’m having the afternoon meal with the other noviciates. You can walk me there.”

The two girls walked side-by-side, almost touching hands in areas where the stacks were close together. Every time Clarke’s hand brushed against Lexa’s, she fought the urge to move it away.

_You might get attached to them. To the second. Don’t be. They’re all expendable, in their way. And besides, we’re out to rule them. Not be friends with them. They’d string you up on a tree in a heartbeat, if they had a mind to. So don’t be guilty if you treat them coldly. Grounders will reciprocate just as well._

At the entrance to the foyer, Lexa turned right, a different way to the one they had come. After walking a few more hallways, they arrived at an ornate doorway, with two brutish guards standing on either side of it. They bowed deferentially to her, but scowled at Clarke.

“See you this evening,” Lexa said by way of goodbye. “Just go back to my room.” Then she was gone, and the guards blocked the doorway once again.

As Clarke walked back to her room, she flipped through the pages of the book. They were so thin they were like to tear in her hands, but she found them able to resist any unstable handling. She was just about to turn down the corridor to Lexa’s chambers when movement caught her eye.

It was Kane, but he was alone, and Clarke imagined he wasn’t supposed to be. He skulked along an inside wall, peering around corners to make sure nobody was watching him. Even though she was standing in the middle of the hallway, he didn’t see her. Kane gave one more peek around the corner before striding purposefully around it and away.

Just what was he up to now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually own a copy of the oxford medical handbook. It's a good book!


End file.
